


just a little while longer

by escapismandsharpobjects



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, anyway its not the most graphic. he gets beat to shit you know the vibes, for the millionth time idk if the violence is That Graphic, i feel like no but also maybe yes?, outnumbered in a fight, ugh. the question that vexes mankind., yeah baby thats right team riker whump is Back!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28002816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects
Summary: written for bthb prompt: outnumbered in a fight.while on shore leave, riker finds himself in an unfortunate situation.
Relationships: Beverly Crusher & William Riker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	just a little while longer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ValorousLeader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValorousLeader/gifts).



> hello!! i hope that you like this fic (and sorry it took me a little longer than planned lol, school's been kinda hectic this week but it finally calmed down today so i could finish this up!) anyway i hope that this is alright!! big thanks to ValorousLeader for requesting!

He was  _ not  _ going to win this fight. That was obvious. He supposed he should have just been glad that none of his attackers had a weapon. He didn’t like to imagine what would have happened then. 

As it was, though, it was just him, standing warily in the middle of an alley, wishing desperately that he had a phaser on him, or even just a communicator. But he had no such luck. It was him and his fists versus the six or so people surrounding him and  _ their  _ fists. It didn’t take a lot of thinking to work out what was about to happen.

“I’m a Starfleet officer,” he said, like this was going to change anything.

“Good for you,” said the man closest to him, grinning dangerously. 

He tried a different tactic. “I don’t have anything you’d want,” he insisted. This was true. He had nothing on him except for his clothes. 

“What makes you think we  _ want  _ anything from you?”

“The fact that you’re all advancing on me like you’re about to do something really stupid.”

“Hm.”

There was no further communication between them. Or, at least, no verbal communication. They made a hell of a point with their fists. And feet. And elbows, knees…

The first blow wasn’t so bad. He’d raised a hand to defend against a fist aimed at his face, stuck out his other hand to strike at the man closest to him, and gotten punched in the ribs before he could move his hands and defend against  _ that  _ attack. It hurt, of course, but it was the kind of pain he was used to. It was like nothing so much as accidentally stumbling into something hard. Painful, but not so bad.  _ Maybe this won’t be so bad, then, _ he thought. 

Before he could do any further thinking along that line, however, he realized that this was, in fact, going to be bad. 

After the first punch, the hits just kept coming. One after another after another after another until they all blended into one constant  _ pain. _ He defended himself as best as he could, quickly giving up on the idea of fighting back. But for every strike he blocked, four more would rain down before he had time to react. 

At some point, he felt something smack into his nose, accompanied by a very unpleasant  _ crunch _ ing and a warm, wet feeling trickling down his face. At another point, someone kicked him in the stomach, and knocked what little air there was in his lungs right out of them, sending him unwillingly to his knees.

Once there, all he could do was curl up into a ball, wrap his arms around his head, and try to outlast his attackers, who kicked him over and over again, seemingly harder and harder every time. 

He’d become quite unable to think. Everything that he knew was pain. Sometimes the pain would intensify in a certain place, but it was constant and overwhelming. It burned, maybe, or it ached. It throbbed, vaguely, in time with his heartbeat, which pounded in his ears, nearly outdoing the painful sounds of his body being beaten to a pulp.

Later, he wouldn’t even remember when it had stopped. The pain was so constant that he just couldn’t tell. All he knew was that, at some point, the level of pain evened out - there were no sudden spikes as a particularly rough kick hit home, no throbs as an especially hurt place was hit again. Slowly, his mind emerged from the haze of pain, and he blinked open eyes that had been screwed shut against it. 

He looked around as much as he could in his current position. He didn’t see anyone around. It was getting dark out. He thought it had been light when he’d stepped into this alley, looking for a shortcut. He hoped he hadn’t been there for too long. He kept looking around. There were splotches on the ground. Dark ones. His blood, he figured, feeling a trickle of it drip down his face. 

As he continued to gather his thoughts, he realized that he had no idea what to do. He’d left his communicator behind in his room at the hotel, eliminating his ability to call for help. He had come into the alley off of a busy street, but he was sure he looked, well,  _ awful,  _ and he didn’t especially want to scare any of the pedestrians, even if they would be capable of getting him some help. 

However, unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life in the alley, he was going to have to suck it up and get out onto the street. He groaned. He was  _ not  _ looking forward to that. It had to be done, though.

First things first, he had to stand up. This was a task much easier said than done. While the pain in his body had become almost bearable, movement of any kind sent it skyrocketing. Even pushing himself to his knees was an almost insurmountable task, and he nearly collapsed back to the ground again, fighting against himself just to stay conscious. 

He managed to stay up, though, somehow, and then very slowly stood up, closing his eyes as the world tilted and his head spun.  _ What he wouldn’t give to beam up to Sickbay right now… _

But Sickbay was off the table - the  _ Enterprise  _ itself wasn’t even anywhere nearby. He was  _ supposed  _ to be on shore leave while the ship made a routine delivery to an outpost. He’d thought it would be fun. Himself, Dr. Crusher, Data, and Geordi, exploring a new city on a planet he hadn’t visited before…

Dr. Crusher! She would be able to help him, somehow. He knew she’d at least brought some basic medical supplies. Maybe she had something that would stop whatever injury it was that was leaking blood down his face. Maybe she could make the pain go away. He had to find her. He just had to find her, and then everything would be okay.

He stumbled his way out onto the street, ignoring the shocked looks and offers of help from the pedestrians around him. He looked around, trying to remember which direction he’d come from originally. 

Eventually, his eyes landed on a small shop with a brightly colored awning. He remembered walking by that shop! He must have come from that way, he decided. 

He started off down the street, very slowly. Every step was pure agony, and he barely managed to keep himself moving, motivated only by the thought that as soon as he found Dr. Crusher, everything was going to be alright. All he had to do was keep going. He could do that. He  _ always  _ kept going.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he finally reached the friendly building that was the hotel his little group was staying in. He’d been walking for what felt like forever, dizzy and hurting and just  _ hoping  _ that he was going the right way. He very nearly collapsed the second he was through the door, and was saved from that fate by the surprised shout of a man sitting in the lobby, which brought him back to his senses.

“Sorry,” he choked out, the words tasting of blood. He ignored the man’s suggestions of finding a doctor, and stumbled off to find Dr. Crusher. He remembered where her room was, because it was right next to a painting that Data had talked about for half an hour over dinner the previous night. He found himself suddenly very glad for that conversation. 

He located the painting, and then the door, and knocked on it, wincing at the jolt to his arm and the pain in his fingers, glancing briefly down at his knuckles when he realized he’d left a bloody smear on the wood.

The door opened, and Dr. Crusher peeked her head out, smiling. Her face changed the second her eyes landed on Will, who stumbled forward into the room, collapsing at last onto the soft carpet. 

“What happened?” was the first thing that she said to him, as her hands fluttered carefully over his body, examining his many injuries.

“Dunno,” he said, trying to remember whether there had been any clear motivation behind his beating. “Lot of people,” he decided, vaguely recalling a jumble of fists and a man with a terrible smile. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Crusher said, her voice soft. 

“S’okay,” Will told her, wincing when her hand touched an especially painful spot.

“I’m afraid there’s not much I can do,” she continued, a hand coming up to lightly touch the side of his face. “I’ll comm the  _ Enterprise,  _ of course, but in the meantime, this planet doesn’t have much in the way of medical capabilities. They can’t do much more than I can, right now, and all  _ I  _ can do is clean you up, patch up some of these cuts, and give you something for the pain. I can’t heal you the same way that I could if I had access to Sickbay.”

“I just want it to stop,” Will told her, honestly. “Don’t care about anything else.”

“I know,” Dr. Crusher said, sympathetically. “I’ll do my best to make it stop.” She gently helped him into a sitting position, easing him back to lean against the end of the bed. 

“I know you probably don’t feel like moving, but you might be more comfortable on the bed,” she suggested, turning away to grab some supplies.

Will shook his head at her back. “Don’t wanna move,” he said. His head was spinning far too much for that to be wise, and he was feeling dangerously close to passing out.  _ Just a little longer, _ he told himself, to avoid that outcome.  _ Just a little longer, and it will all stop. _

A hypo pressed into his arm. 

“This is for the pain. It’ll take a few minutes to settle in. In the meantime, I’d like to work on some of those cuts, if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” Will said, closing his eyes. He didn’t much care what happened now. The important thing was that the pain was going to stop. 

He faded in and out of reality as something wet and vaguely cold touched his face. It stung slightly, but that was absolutely nothing compared to the magnitude of pain he was in, and he didn’t even react. He felt something press against his forehead, and then the blood stopped dripping down his face.  _ That’s nice, _ he thought. Something else touched his knuckles, then, and then his shirt was being pulled away from him, and he heard a sympathetic hiss. 

_ “Will…” _

“I know,” he mumbled. He didn’t know, really. He hadn’t looked at the injuries beneath his clothes. But he felt them, at any rate, and could imagine how bad they must have looked.

The cold and wet thing passed over his entire torso, but nothing pressed up against it. No bleeding to stop, he knew instinctively. 

“There’s nothing else I can do for your injuries that aren’t bleeding,” Dr. Crusher said, voicing his thoughts. 

He gave an almost imperceptible nod. The hypo was starting to kick in, and he found he didn’t care about anything else. 

“Feeling better?” Dr. Crusher asked, evidently noting his slight relaxation.

“Think it’s working.”

“Good. I’m going to finish cleaning you up, comm the  _ Enterprise, _ and have you in Sickbay by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Will said, the word dropping heavily from his tongue. He was  _ exhausted, _ and now that the pain was fading, he was finding it very difficult to stay any level of alert. 

“You can sleep, Will,” Dr. Crusher said, putting a hand back on the side of his head. “Just get some rest, and when you wake up, you’ll be in a nice, comfortable bed in Sickbay and I’ll be telling you that you can’t get up for a few hours, and you’ll be insisting that you’re fine…”

As Dr. Crusher continued to talk and patch him up, Will finally let himself drift off to sleep. The pain was gone, and tomorrow everything would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading this fic!!! in personal Me News that i am providing just because i can i am very pleased bc i did a speech for my whole school today and it didn't even go that bad!! and yeah it was online which made it easier but i have Never done anything like that before so i am happy ab that :) anyhow after i have exams next week i am free for break and in between writing college essays i should have plenty of free time to write fic :) !


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